Copyright: 1925
Publisher: Publishing House of the P.H. Church (January 1, 1925)

The following is the true story of Ottie Cline Powell by J.B. Huffman, a teacher at Parry McClure School in Buena Vista, Va. Mr. Huffman wrote the story in 1925, and had it published in a little book. My father owned a copy of this book, and growing up I read it over and over. Mr. Cliff Coleman, who later became our neighbor, was a young teen when he joined in the search. By the 1950's Mr. Cliff was an old man, and he would sit on our front porch, and tell us how they searched for the little one. As a young child I fell in love with little Ottie Cline Powell, and to this day, he's still my biggest little hero.

- J.Pinkerton

“Get up children, and get ready for school,” was the call of Mrs. Powell. This was a family of children being raised by a dear father and mother, the Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Powell living on the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Amherst County, Virginia.

On November 9, 1891, this family of children started to school at the old school house known as Tower Hill School House. Among this family of bright children was the little brown-eyed boy, with a brown suit of hair dressed in his little Kentucky Jeans pants; aged four years eleven months and twenty-five days old.

His name was Ottie Cline Powell. Indeed life looked promising to him. His little body filled with life’s pure blood, undefiled by habits or cares of life. This little fellow went with the other children to school to learn the ways of school as was the custom in this age and time.

It was a beautiful autumn, the children being full of life and love for each other and for their teacher, Miss Nannie Gilbert. It was the custom of the country schools to give a five-minute recess in the afternoon first to the girls and then to the boys. Miss Gilbert, being very thoughtful as the mornings were getting to be chilly and frosty, realized that they would need some fuel for the following morning. As the boys went hurrying out for a romp and jump, the kind teacher requested they bring back a small armful of dry wood for the morning’s fire.

The school house was located about seven miles east of the top of the Blue Ridge Mountains, near the foot of the hills. Just back of the school house was a dense forest of chestnut, oak and pine trees such as grow on the Blue Ridge. The boys naturally went this way in search of wood and chestnuts, which were easily secured. There being a path leading through the long woods, the boys gathered up some chestnuts and then their wood and started for the log school house out in the cleared field, each boy thinking only of himself. Little Ottie, being the smallest and youngest of the crowd, and not wishing to return to his school and teacher empty handed, in securing his pole of wood he got behind and on reaching the path, the oldest boys had disappeared from his sight. Little Ottie, being young and not acquainted with the woods, went the opposite direction.

On November the 9th when little Ottie started to school after saying goodbye to his mother he went by where his father was at work husking corn and said, “Papa let me stay at home with you today and help you with the corn.” Mr. Powell, who, like other fathers, wanted his little boy to be in school, only replied to him that he wanted him to go to school. Upon this reply little Ottie made his way around the corn pile; but little did Mr. Powell think that this was the last time he would see his little boy on these mortal shores.

Mr. E.M. Powell and his wife were very devout Christians, Mr. Powell himself being a minister of the gospel and is yet. To his union were born eight children, of which little Ottie was the youngest at this time.

Mrs. Lillian Belle Powell, little Ottie’s mother, only lived a short time after the loss of her child, the great breakdown from over taxation of nerve and body being largely the cause of her death. The writer wonders how she bore the grief and sorrow as long as she did. Human tongue or thoughts cannot express it on paper or in words. Only one that has had like experience could offer satisfactory sympathy, and they are very scarce.

One strange thing was a dream that Mr. Powell had the night before his little boy was lost, on the night of November the 8th. Mr. Powell dreamed that he saw something like a hearse or a black wagon. He went to the black wagon or hearse and went in. On entering this black wagon he saw an old man sitting back in the end of it. The man said, “This is my house.” In his dream he saw in this black wagon a little coffin about a foot long with no top on it. It was in the rear of the wagon and a little light burned over it. The little light was suspended in the air, seemingly it was just a little blaze burning. It was not resting on anything, just over the little casket.

Mr. Powell awoke and told his wife his dream. It bothered him so that he could not sleep any more that night. Undoubtedly this dream had a great meaning to it. Had Mr. Powell known just how to take it.

The children had all hurried back to the school house and left their wood at the wood-pile. They rushed in to their desk and were soon settled down to their study.

The teacher heard a class recite their lessons and they had returned to their desks, when she glanced over her school of intelligent children and for the first time missed her little student, Ottie Cline Powell. There being a period of about twenty minutes elapsed, some might thing that was an oversight of Miss Gilbert for not missing him sooner. But one realizes what a great responsibility that a country school teacher had, especially in a locality like this was, where all grades occupied the same room, both large and small boys and girls. One that is acquainted with a school like this was could easily account for one little fellow being gone twenty minutes before the teacher missed him.

The writer was brought up in a school like this and I have seen boys skip school and be gone several hours before the teacher missed him.

So Miss Gilbert, thinking that he was just outside playing around, went to the door expecting to find him. But failing to see him, she sent some boys back to where they had picked up their wood, thinking that he would be found there, but they soon returned unable to find him. So the teacher, thinking that he might have gone to some neighbor’s house, sent there in search of him. She thought that possibly he had gone home and sent a crowd of hurrying boys to Mr. Powell’s home to see if he had gone there. They soon returned as they did before, unable to find him. All the time little Ottie was making his way through Black Jacks and Bramble Briars toward the main Blue Ridge.

On their return, Miss Gilbert started out with all her school, both boys and girls.

Mr. Powell soon appeared on the scene with the nearby neighbors, feeling sure that they would soon locate him. They sought the flat-woods in a short time, but with the same results, unable to find him. The summoned their neighbors to join them in their search, all this time the excitement growing worse and the news spreading; more help was coming to render aid. And by the time the sun began to go over the western hills the woods were fairly alive with men and women, boys an girls, searching for little Ottie.

Can anyone imagine Mr. and Mrs. Powell’s feelings, darkness coming and their little baby boy lost in the dense forest? Mrs. Powell walking the floor screaming for her little boy.

All the time little Ottie fleeing from mother and his loved ones in his wild flight toward the lofty peaks of the Blue Ridge.

On searching closely, they found where he had worked and toiled at a little chestnut pole to get it loose from the vines that held it fast. This accounts for him getting behind the other boys. Little Ottie had dragged his little burden of wood to the path or old road, and held on to it for a distance of a half a mile. The pole was about twelve feet long. The little end of the pole was worn down to a feather edge by dragging it over rocks and sand. This proves that he thought he was returning to the school house or was going the right way. It is surprising to know how the little fellow held on to his pole of wood so great a distance.

By the time the sun was down the woods and mountains were almost alive with people searching for the little lost boy. The news spreading like wild fire, of course would bring more earnest help.

Can one just imagine what terrible suffering and agony that little fellow was undergoing from fright and cold and hunger lost in the rocks and cliffs of the Blue Ridge and the darkness creeping down upon the earth and away from mama and papa?

One of the noted parties that sought for him from the early part of the afternoon was Mr. Henry Wood, now deceased. Mr. Wood told me after they had searched the entire afternoon for him until about ten p.m., when he thought of a faithful dog that he had at home which little Ottie thought so much of, and the dog was very fond of Ottie.

Mr. Wood went home and brought the dog and put him on the little boy’s track where he had dropped his pole of wood. The dog seemed at once to know something had happened to little Ottie. Mr. Wood said that the dog at once took the trail and went toward the high peaks of the main ridge. The dog was gone so long that they thought he had left the trail and had gone off hunting for something else. For they did not think the little boy had gone so far and in that direction, and for this reason they did not follow the dog closely.

Mr. Wood told me that he believed the dog went to him that very night, as he was gone so long. I have no doubt from what Mr. Wood told me that the faithful old dog did go to little Ottie and wag his tail and lick his face, having found him asleep returned to his owner who sent him on the trail.

Every effort was made to find him the first night. After darkness had drooped over the mountains and the people on search of him had gotten tired and sleepy, they thinking that little Ottie would fall asleep and wake up and cry and holler for his mamma. Men were stationed about over the sides of the mountain with lights so that he might come to them or they could hear when he would holler or cry.

Just how many times little Ottie called for his mother, or how many times he called for his papa on this dark lonely night, we will never know. Just imagine him calling for his mamma with his little feet bleeding from scratches and rakes from briars and sticks, only to be answered back by a big owl or the screams of some carnivorous animal.

The Blue Ridge at this time and this part of it was noted for black bears, panthers, wolves, wildcats and many other prowling animals. It made it unsafe for a little fellow like Ottie to be alone.

It was about midnight when it became cloudy and rained for a few minutes a very cold rain. The next morning the lofty peaks were white with ice and snow, but it cleared off. The sun rose over the eastern hills to make it pleasant for the ones that were searching for the little lost boy. By the time the sun was up people thronged the mountains from every direction, feeling that they would be sure to find him in a short time.

Strong men like Mr. Henry Wood and his two brothers kept up the search, they being hunters were well acquainted with the mountains and took an active part in searching for little Ottie. Friends would try to comfort Mrs. Powell by telling her they would find him in the next few hours. Indeed, anyone would have thought so from the number of people that were searching for him. Each one expecting to come upon him at any moment.

The second day was spent by friends and relatives of Mr. and Mrs. Powell in searching for their little lost baby boy.

Again the sun began to sink down over the western hills and little Ottie was still not found. Through darkness was coming on, that did not hinder the great search but rather caused a greater anxiety to find him. The report and sad news was spreading to the nearby towns and villages of the joining counties. Each searcher imagined that he could hear the little boy calling for his mamma and papa away back somewhere in the mountains among the rocks and dens of wild animals in which he was.

So day after day passed, and yet little Ottie was not found. Each day the search would go farther and higher on the mountain ridges. Hundreds of people would form themselves into a line about four feet apart and take boundaries looking diligently for the little fellow. They would hide handkerchiefs under rocks and logs, but they would be found by some earnest searcher. One would wonder how the parents of this little fellow ever stood this awful tragedy. To think their little baby boy left home in perfect health and strength and to be lost in the awful dangerous mountains hungry and cold calling for them and they could not hear him.

We are told that more than fifteen hundred people sought for him, but none of them had the least idea he had wandered so far. The searchers began to get discouraged and began to give up a few at a time. It was decided that the little fellow was kidnapped and held for a reward. So Mr. Powell employed the best detective that he could find. He searched and worked day after day, every known source. He put forth every effort, but not one clue could he find nor one thing to give any light on the case. So, after about two weeks of hard work, he gave up the case and retired to Richmond, Virginia.

The great search was finally given up by all except little Ottie’s father.

Mr. Powell was a praying man and strong in body, so he would go back in the mountains on days that he was not compelled to be otherwise employed. He would look for his little boy and pray and ask God to help him find him.

The white snow covered the high peaks of the mountains and little Ottie was forgotten by most people, but not by his parents. As they would see his little playthings, his little clothes, and look back towards the mountains covered with snow and to know that their little boy was somewhere beneath it, can you imagine what a terrible feeling that would bring to their hearts.

It was in the following spring, on Sunday, April the 5th that four young men had occasion to cross the Blue Ridge by the way of the old Bear Trail. This was an old path or trail known as the Bear Path that led across the Blue Ridge, from Amherst county to Rockbridge county. This trail crossed the high peaks known as the Bluff and wound around the mountain side until it was finally lost in the great forests or the western slope.

On the previous Sunday these four young men had trouble over the same trail. They were N.M. Coleman and his brother and two other young men by the name of Lipscomb. On the previous Sunday, as they approached the high peaks, in order to save time and distance, they cut around the peaks and took the trail again.

But on the Sunday of April the 5th, as they approached this high peak, their dog having gone on ahead of them and was barking at something on top of this high peak, they thought they would go on to the top and see what the dog had found to bark at.

As they walked up to him they could hardly believe their own eyes. It was the long-sought-for little Ottie Powell. This part of it seemed providential. These young men just seemed to be led this way, as they had no particular business to be traveling this rough trail on this Sunday.

They at once decided for two of them to stay there and the other two make their way down the rough mountain side to the school house from which little Ottie had started from. They being sure that Mr. Powell and the people of the community would be there at the service.

Mr. Powell had gone up in the mountains on the previous Sunday in search of his little boy. And while he was up there he prayed that God would let him know where his child was, dead or live.

So the young men were not long in making their way down to the school house.

As they entered the door they had just finished singing the opening song and the minister, the Rev. Mr. Cline, I do not remember his initials, said that this day would be a day that would be long remembered.

The young men called Mr. Powell to the door and told him they had found his little boy. Mr. Powell threw up his hands and thanked God to the top of his voice. This ended the services for that day.

A crowd of men at once started out towards the high peak where Ottie’s lifeless body lay. As they gathered around the little boy this strong crowd of men and boys wept as they viewed the little long-sought–for being of Ottie Cline Powell.

To see him lay there between that white oak tree and a large rock, his little brown hat yet on his head, his little pants full of holes where snags and thorns, briers and sticks had caught him and torn them. How many times some unnoticed snag or stick might have knocked off his little hat and he stooped in his wild, bewildered condition and picked it up, placed it on his head expecting to see his mother the next few minutes.

What seemed to puzzle them was how a little fellow like him, less than five years of age, climbed over such rocks, hedges and cliffs to this lofty peak. The altitude is 3350 feet on the line of Rockbridge and Amherst County. From this peak can be seen three county seats, Amherst, Lexington, and Bedford city. Also the city of Buena Vista and Lynchburg.

So at this point Ottie’s body was found. His little body was unharmed except his feet had been bitten off. So his little body was carried back to the school house from which he had been lost from.

A physician was called from Big Island, Virginia, and an examination was made to see if it could be determined how long he lived after he left the school house. The doctor examined his stomach by the way of incision and found that the last thing he ate was three chestnuts. These chestnuts were still in his stomach undigested, he had eaten them at recess the evening that he was lost from the school house.

So this proved to everyone that the little fellow died in a few hours after he was lost, even before the chestnuts had time to digest. It is thought by some people that searched for him that after he found that he was lost that he dropped his pole of wood and ran with all his strength until he reached this point and just fell broken down and fatigued, fell to sleep and froze to death before the next morning.

The distance from the school house to where he was found was seven miles.

So on the following Monday, April the 6th, 1892, little Ottie’s funeral was preached and the little body laid to rest in the Tower Hill graveyard.

How much pain and agony he suffered from cold and hunger from having his little bare feet cut and pierced by rocks and thorns we may never know unless we can see him in the glory world and he can tell us all about it over there, and surely this is everyone’s privilege.